


trouble sleeping

by bobmcjoe



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobmcjoe/pseuds/bobmcjoe
Summary: Kit let out a slow shaky exhale and tried for a wobbly smile. He was supposed to be the one protecting Ty, and he hated that he was making Ty worried. "I'm okay now," he said."No, you're not," Ty frowned, "you're still shaking." He cradled Kit's trembling hand in his own. "Tell me what you need."Or another in-between scene set during qoaad, in which Kit has a bad dream.





	trouble sleeping

Cold moonlight filtered through the library windows, the bookshelves casting long shadows on the carpet. The other people in the Institute had gone to bed, and at this time of night, Kit supposed he ought to be sleeping too.

Instead his eyes swung in and out of focus on a witchlight lit page that swam with words like 'death magic' and 'necromancy'. He could hear the soft turning of pages as Ty, sitting cross-legged opposite him, plowed through book after book.

Kit felt guilty- Ty had dark shadows under his eyes- but his heavy eyelids could no longer stay open. His witchlight winked out as he slipped into sleep, book still open on his lap.

-

A woman with long blonde hair was leading Kit through the Los Angeles Shadow Market. 

"Who are you?" he demanded. Something about her demeanor made him feel as though he ought to know her, but whenever he tried to look at her face, it turned blurry and indistinct.

She let out a small laugh. The sound of it tugged at his memory, but he couldn't place that laugh for the life of him. Kit shook his head in confusion and followed after her.

She hummed a familiar tune as they made their way through the market, past colourfully lit stalls. A faint scent of herbs- rosemary and thyme, and the light burnt sugar smell of magic wafted through the night air and the market was abuzz with life, exactly the way Kit remembered it from the times when he went along with his father. There were pixies performing some sort of flight show, warlocks casting spells, the night air shimmering with rainbow sparks. A vampire winked at Kit as they walked by, sharp white fangs glinting against his red-lipped grin. The woman laughed again, and ruffled Kit's hair fondly.

Then they turned a corner, and Kit was slapped in the face by his darkest memories.

In the place where there had once been fortune-telling booth, Johnny Rook was being ripped apart, ligaments torn and limbs sent flying, blood splattering the cheerful banner. The remains of his dad's body convulsed on the floor, twitching like puppet with its strings cut. A swarm of those praying mantis demons devoured his flesh, fresh blood dripping grotesquely down their pincers. Kit heard the crunch of bone, and a wave of nausea rose up in him like a tsunami.

He turned his head away sharply, only to be met with an equally terrible sight.

Opposite the booth, Livvy was being stabbed repeatedly, and each time, a geyser of blood sprayed from her heart as her blue-green eyes widened in shock, her white dress blooming crimson. Everytime her body went limp, it jerked back to life before she was stabbed again, stuck in a replay of a horror show. Kit stood frozen in shock, watching as Livvy died over and over again in front of him.

The woman pulled him along, shaking her head sadly. "You should have had the perfect life," she whispered.

Kit could barely decipher her voice through the buzz of static in his brain.

As she led him deeper into the market, the scenes changed. Sometimes it was Livvy who was being eaten by demons, her detached arm with its Voyance rune winking up at him, brown curls matted with blood and demon spit. Other times it was his dad was being run through with a sword, his old trenchcoat pierced straight through, the tip of the sword slicked in his blood. Kit felt like gagging.

The woman touched his shoulder gently, guiding him along. They were walking towards his dad's old booth, Kit realized. 

As they approached, Kit saw something else that made his heart stop.

Ty, burning alive in the flames of Livvy's funeral pyre, still clinging on to his twin, skin blistering and bubbling. He lifted his head and smiled, his extraordinary smile glowing brighter than the fires.

This couldn't be happening. Ty was not dead. Ty was alive. He was alive, wasn't he? He had to be. White-hot fear gripped his heart.

"Ty! Ty, no!" Kit screamed. He shrugged the woman's hand off his shoulder and started towards Ty.

"Kit?" Ty's garbled voice sounded out behind him.

Kit spun around to see Ty at his dad's booth, the JOHNNY ROOK'S sign hanging crookedly. Ty's beautiful face was destroyed, waterlogged skin peeling off his skull, black blood bubbling out of his mouth. He lifted one decaying hand towards Kit and one of his fingers fell off, white bone showing through rotted flesh.

Kit scrambled away in panic, bumping into bronze armour. "I know your face, Herondale," an ancient voice hissed.

He looked up in shock to see one of the Riders of Mannan raising his longsword, swinging it down in a swift arc. The blonde woman pulled him out of the way, leapping in front of him and he watched, horrified, as the longsword struck her once, twice, and finally, fatally. She crumpled to the ground.

"No, no," he whispered. Who was she? Why was this happening?

The Rider turned on him again, eyes blazing, sword dripping blood. Kit tried to back away, but there was nowhere to run and he had no weapons, nothing to defend himself with. The tip of the Rider's blade touched his chest-

"Kit!" Ty's voice again, louder than before.

Kit jolted awake, heart pounding in his throat.

Ty's face, gray eyes wide and worried, hovered in front of him. Kit stared at him blankly, heart pounding, the image of Ty's disintegrating face still burning in his mind.

"Are you- are you okay?" Ty asked quietly. "You were kicking things and crying my name."

It was just a dream, Kit thought, only a dream. But just hearing the low, clear sound of Ty's voice made him feel so relieved that all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

"You're alive," he whispered instead, closing his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. "You're alive."

Kit felt Ty gently brush his hair back, his cool fingers ghosting over his face. He opened his eyes slowly to find Ty looking back at him, eyes huge and filled with concern. "I am," he whispered back. 

Kit let out a slow shaky exhale and tried for a wobbly smile. He was supposed to be the one protecting Ty, and he hated that he was making Ty worried. "I'm okay now," he said.

"No, you're not," Ty frowned, "you're still shaking." He cradled Kit's trembling hand in his own. "Tell me-" He paused. "Tell me what you need." 

Don't leave me. Don't shut me out. Don't raise Livvy. Don't lose yourself. Don't fall apart. 

"-stay," Kit mumbled, "Just stay alive."

"I am alive," Ty said firmly, gazing directly into Kit's eyes. For one, two heartbeats, their eyes were locked together, before Ty's gaze flitted away. 

Hesitantly, Ty shifted forward and put his arms around Kit, and when Kit melted into him, Ty pulled him in closer, the soft material of his shirt caressing Kit's cheek. He drank in Ty's embrace, the weight of Ty's body against his own a reassurance, the press of Ty's hands on his back a solace. Ty's name fell from his lips like a prayer, and he let the steady beat of Ty's heart guide him back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> ahahaha ha ha sorry the writing and descriptions are kind of clunky,,..,..


End file.
